


rotting teeth

by irreputablyyours



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1980s, Central Intelligence Agency, Cold War, Federal Bureau of Investigation, M/M, Spies & Secret Agents, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irreputablyyours/pseuds/irreputablyyours
Summary: “I know everything about you,” Ivan whispers, and Alfred wishes it wasn’t true.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	rotting teeth

**Author's Note:**

> You ever see a spy documentary about the cold war and think 'hey, that'd make for good background for sexual tension between two anthropomorphic personifications?' Me too!

Geneva, Switzerland

January 7th, 1985

* * *

Ivan always finds him precisely when he shouldn’t. 

Alfred is- standing, doing nothing much, pulling apart loose thread on his suit. Making the damage worse. His boss left him outside -private meetings with Chernenko, renegotiations. Something about... _talking_ to the Soviets.

It’ll be weird, Alfred thinks. There hasn’t been any _official_ contact for a year now. He’s almost gotten used to not seeing Ivan around every corner. 

Almost. 

The telegraph from the FBI had been slammed on his desk early this morning. Bad fucking news, as always. One of them - CIA or FBI - had a mole. Leaking info - at least three of their spies had been executed in Moscow. The men were up in arms - with info like that, it’d have to be someone high-up, someone who knew their nuclear defense programs, someone who knew about the tunnels they’d built right under Ivan’s nose. 

They had a mole, and here he was, watching his boss smile and shake hands with fucking Chernenko, pretending to be... _reconciling_ with that heinous sonuvabitch Ivan, when all their info was going out the fucking drain and they couldn’t even pinpoint _where._ It was an unmitigated disaster, and the next person who comes through that hall with stupidly loud clacking shoes is gonna get a bullet through their _fucking_ head-

“ _Privyet, kak dela?”_

Ivan is smiling, and Alfred has a Glock in his back pocket (he knows things about secret entrances that security couldn’t _dream_ of. Unfortunately, so does Ivan. The way his hands are resting just a bit too far back on the edge of his suit shows it.) 

Alfred plasters on a smile. “Fantastic to see you again, Ivan.” He says through gritted teeth. Over the last forty years, he’s learned an unfortunate amount of Russian, and he assumes Ivan can hold his own in English, but all their conversations are bilingual. God help him the day he gives Ivan an inch. (Ivan doesn’t need an inch to take a mile.)

“I am always pleased to see my American comrade.” Alfred wonders if Ivan has any smiles that don’t show all his teeth. 

“Of course,” Alfred mutters, hoping like hell that Ivan’s got somewhere to be, because the last thing on earth he needs right now is another one of their passive-aggressive, tiptoeing-on-eggshells talks. 

No such luck. Ivan stops next to him, leans against the wall, and pulls out a cigarette. Technically, they’re not supposed to be smoking indoors, but it’s not like anyone in _Switzerland_ can tell them what to do. 

“Pass me one,” He says, knowing he’ll regret it. 

Ivan eyes him, a smirk on the edge of his lips. He passes the cigarette without a word, but Alfred knows. This’ll haunt him, later. Eye for an eye. 

He pulls out a lighter and takes a drag. 

“Have you been well, America?” Ivan says - casual, too casual, Alfred’s the king of too casual - tipping his shoulder against the wall, suit jacket bunching up at his elbows. 

Alfred purses his lips, watches his breath draw smoke rings. “You know I always am.” 

Ivan - Ivan _laughs._ Understated, and not out of joy, but. Still. “I always know when you are not.” 

Alfred’s shoulders go stiff. He’d expected this - there’s no reason why Ivan _wouldn’t_ know about the breaches in Alfred’s security, but - god, he’d been hoping to avoid it. He’d been hoping to never hear Ivan’s voice again. 

He counts to ten. Remember the war in Afghanistan; you’re winning. Your boss is finally taking these fuckers to task, your economy's shot up while Ivan's is stalling. Give it a few years, just a few years - you’ll have Ivan on his knees. 

It’s cold comfort. Right now, it’s the best he can do to stop himself from shivering when Ivan leans closer. 

Alfred swallows. Steady hands, keep your head in the game. 

He drops his cigarette, but he can’t move to tap it out. Ivan steps forward and crushes it under his boot. There’s ash all over the carpet, and - Ivan’s hand is on his wrist. Taking his pulse. (He's wearing gloves). 

“I know a lot of things, Alfred.” 

Right. Head in the game. 

“Too much.” 

“Maybe,” A quick smile, not even a grin. “Right now, I know everything about you. Too much?” He says, and Alfred _wishes_ it wasn’t true. He wants to punch the wall. He wants to slam his knuckles into Ivan’s teeth. He wants to put his boot on Ivan’s sternum and make him fucking _beg._

Alfred doesn’t know how it happened but Ivan’s facing him, an inch taller (goddamnit). 

“You don’t know jack shit,” Alfred says, almost choking on the words (fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck-_ ), but he keeps his gaze steady, his tone consistent. 

Ivan looks amused. 

“Maybe,” He says. “Just maybe. Tell me, then-” He steps forward ( _tooclostooclosetooclose)_ , presses a hand to Alfred’s shoulder. 

It’s so brief Alfred could mistake it for a dream, a startlingly warm kiss pressed to the edges of his lips. But Ivan’s expression doesn’t let him believe in hallucinations. He’s different. Smug, but…

_No._

“No,” Alfred says, knowing he sounds choked. “You’re wrong. You’re always wrong. About _everything._ ”

“Not now, though. I know all about your plans,” Ivan says, and gives a brief tug on Alfred’s tie. He walks away and doesn’t look back. 

Alfred swallows, and thinks that he should call the FBI. They’ll be taking a hit for this, no doubt. 

Intelligentsia always comes at a price.

**Author's Note:**

> Spying: The case Alfred discusses is the work of the now know spy [Robert](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Hanssen) [Hanssen](https://www.fbi.gov/history/famous-cases/robert-hanssen), an FBI agent who leaked various US intelligence secrets to the Soviets (and later Russians) over the course of 22 years (1979-2001). He exposed US spies in the USSR (the three mentioned in this fic are Boris Yuzhin, Valery Martynov, and Sergei Motorin), as well as information about the US’ plans for nuclear defense, and of the secret tunnels that US agents had constructed in the USSR. The US department of justice describes his actions as “possibly the worst intelligence disaster in U.S. history.” Using his excessive technological competence in a time where the intelligence world knew very little of computers, Hanssen was able to shift blame and avoid capture until the final moments of his career. He is now serving 15 life sentences in a top-security jail in Colorado, where he is in solitary confinement. For more information, I’d recommend [this episode](https://www.smithsonianchannel.com/shows/spy-wars-with-damian-lewis/a-perfect-traitor/1006391/3480103) of Damian Lewis’ ‘Spy Wars’.
> 
> January 7th, 1985: Date of a diplomatic meeting between US President Ronald Reagan and USSR General Secretary Konstantin Chernenko. The meeting took place in Geneva, after a year without diplomatic contact between the two nations. There, the leaders discussed nuclear and space weapons. However, there was no true reconciliation, as Chernenko still continued the USSR’s involvement in the [Soviet-Afghan War](https://www.britannica.com/event/Soviet-invasion-of-Afghanistan).
> 
> Smoking: Smoking in public indoor spaces was not strictly illegal in Switzerland until 2010, and the USSR until 2014. While the US varies by state, many places have yet to impose smoking restrictions, even in the modern-day. 
> 
> _Privyet, kak dela?_ \- Hello (casual), how are you? [Russian]


End file.
